Magnificent Missives
by Violet Fire Krazed
Summary: Your Magnificent and humble brother, Peter. Previously named Letters to Lucy
1. MM1

Okay, this is a series of letters from Peter to Lucy while he's away on his first campaign against the witches army. I was trying to unblock my writers block and this kinda helped. Thanks elecktrum for beta-ing this for me, and I hope y'all enjoy this....... I'd love to hear any feedback that you wish to give me.......

Disclaimer: Not mine.....yet......

Lucy,

Good my sister, I am well. Do not fear for my safety (yet).

I'm very glad to have denied you your request to come with me on the campaign. Already, in just one battle, I have seen more death and bloodshed than I could ever wish to remember.

I have lost two of my trusted advisors, Jaor the Badger and Gotwin the gryphon, along with many other friends. I would not tell you these things so bluntly unless I had a reason and I do. I wish you to heed Father Christmas' warning: war is not women's work. We have lost fewer soldiers than our opponents but I still am not satisfied. Unless there can be a bloodless, deathless war, I will not be happy. Death, no matter the side, is not to be rejoiced over.

On a lighter note: I had a visitor yesterday. You would never guess who it was, so I'll just tell you. Yesterday morning our old friends the Beavers visited me. They brought me biscuits. I managed to eat a few before Orieus came in and took them away, saying that I wouldn't fit in my armor if I ate any more (I think that he just wanted them for himself, so I just gave them to him). Anyway, they were delicious and the Beavers will be escorted to the Cair to drop some off for you soon. My orders to you are that you may have three cookies a day, no more, no less, and you are not to let Edmund have any (you know how easily he gets cavities) and to brush your teeth after every single one. That should keep you from getting a tooth-ache. (but, since you're not going to listen to me anyway, go ahead and eat as many as you want)

The weather here has been absolutely dreadful. It rains every day and it never seems to let up for more than a few minutes at a time. Thus the army has to keep their armor in tip-top condition or it will rust. Orieus taught me how to scrub my armor and keep it well-cleaned, and now I have to do it everyday. I don't really mind though, besides keeping my tent clean and planning battles that never seem to come, I have nothing much else to do except scrub chunks of metal. Oh, and fight a war.

I just had a thought: I should get you a souvenir from this part of the world. What would you like? I'm afraid they don't exactly have snow-globes here or I would get you one to add to your vast collection. People here don't seem to collect spoons either. That's too bad. I always liked the thought of doing that. Let me know what I can send you, some panpipes? Would you like to learn how to play those? Maybe Tumnus can teach you.

Anyway, I must take my leave, It is nearly time for another of my never-ending training sessions with Orieus. I still have to get back into my armor. What a nuisance.

Please write me back soon.

Your Magnificent (and humble) brother,

Peter


	2. MM2

Lucy,

We just came back from another battle and as I write, I think back on the bloodshed.

I killed a wolf today, without even a second thought. What if he had a family? Children? He was fighting for the side that he thought was right. The only difference between us was that I was on the right side, Aslan's side.

Now his family, who wait for him to come home, will never see him again,

How can I call myself 'King' if I devastate lives like this?

I will try to put such things from my mind, for your safety if not for mine. I know you wouldn't want me to be distracted going into a battle.

Anyway, did you enjoy the biscuits? Weren't they good? How many did Edmund manage to steal? I hope you brushed your teeth, those were chock full of sugar.

I get the point and will most definitely send you the pipes. I hope you like them, a dryad put them together for me out of some of her fallen branches.

What was this I heard about an evil plot that Susan has come up with to keep my young siblings inside all day hanging tapestries? I don't like it. You'll all get dust in your lungs. We can't have that. I must write to Susan and tell her that there are a couple of elephants that have offered to help her with that job.

This will seem out of context and I sincerely hope you never have to, but, if the Cair is attacked, just send me a letter and I WILL come. Don't hesitate to write me. I'll drop everything and ride straight home. If it's a minor thing, please go to your brother or sister, I can't drop things THAT easily.

Isn't it strange how we now consider a castle our home? No, I think it's more than that, I think that we now call Narnia home. I would love to hear your opinions on this.

I think it's because of the magic of this place. It almost feels like we've been here forever.

Do you remember our old home at all? I remember some of it. I'll tell you about it later. Right now I must head to my next training session with Orieus. When I get home I'll probably be able to beat Edmund with his two swords.

Now for an order (after all, I can't very well be a proper king without giving orders, can I?):

Send me a nice long letter in reply to this one.

Be safe my dear sister,

Peter


	3. MM3

Lucy,

I'm very happy to receive your letter just now. I have just come back from yet another battle. I won't bore you with the details of the war but know that I am safe and no worse for the wear.

I believe you are right. The moment we entered Narnia we started to think of it as home. I was thinking back on our lives back in Spare Oom and I found that there were some things that I just couldn't remember. It was as if, when I tried to recall something, there was a wall where the memory was supposed to be. I remember Mum and Dad, our cousin Eustace (don't ask me why I remember that little beast, but I do) and other, small things. Do you remember Mum and Dad?

When I finally come home, I don't think you'll even recognize me. I fear that I have changed drastically. My hair has grown longer and I've gotten thin. I've gotten taller, stronger (thanks to many of Orieus' vigorous training sessions), and have started to look almost wild. In short: I need a haircut.

I hear from Edmund that you have been experimenting in the kitchens. I would love for you to send me some of your wonderful creations. Was your first attempt at a cake successful? I here that your cookies are spectacular. Please send some of them to me.

You'll think me silly but last night I had a dream that we were back home. Dad was back from the war, and Mom was in the kitchen making some tea. Ed and I were in the living room, helping you hang ornaments on the Christmas tree and Susan was curled up in a chair, reading a book. Nothing much happened but it was still such a nice dream compared to the ones I've been having lately that it stuck out in my mind. When I woke it took me a minute to remember that I was in Narnia; not England. Do you think the war is over by now? Who do you think won? It probably doesn't matter. We're here now, aren't we?

The pipes are being delivered with this letter. I hope you like them.

It is growing dark and I must get some rest. Please write me back soon. Letters from home are the high point of my endless days here.

Eagerly awaiting your next letter,

Peter


	4. MM4

Lucy,

I don't understand why I can remember Mum and Dad and you can't. To answer your question, though, a mum is a woman who cares for, feeds and loves her children. She makes sure that they are safe and warm. She tucks them in at night and reads to them. She teaches them how to behave and mind their manners, she teaches the girls how to be women. She is….mum. I don't know how else to explain her. She's…Mum.

A dad goes out and works for the money and food. When he has to, he goes and fights for his country and family. When necessary he helps the mum with housework and cleaning. He's the protector and provider for the family. The head of the house if you know what I mean. He plays with the kids and teaches the boys to be men. He's dad. He is the protector; he makes you feel safe.

I suppose that I have somewhat taken on the fatherly role to you, Ed and Su.

Oh, bother. I didn't explain that very well at all. I hope you understood but if you didn't, I'll understand. If you really didn't get it I'll try to explain better in my next letter. Until then I'll be trying to figure out how to explain it better.

Those bicuits you made for me were wonderful. Thank you. I don't care what Edmund says; they are great. Orieus stole them from me, using his old excuse of me getting fat and then ate a few himself.

I hope he chokes on them. (I hope you know I'm not serious when I say that, I'm just trying to make you smile.) I love your smile. You don't know how much I miss seeing it everyday. Nobody smiles here. Everything is gray and dull. I miss home where everything from the floor to the ceiling is colorful and filled with life. Did that chandelier that the dwarves were making for us ever come?

Despite their surly point of view I really do like the Dwarves. They are hard workers no matter how much they complain they still get everything done. I think we could all take a lesson from the Dwarves.

I'm very sorry to here that you have the chicken pox. I'm sure the healers can take care of you, however, and will keep you as comfortable as possible. Perhaps they know a cure here. Back in Spare Oom I remember having to suffer through it with no cure at all. It itches, though, doesn't it? Well, I hope you feel better soon, but, since this isn't a huge catastrophe, I can't leave the army. We all suffer from the chicken pox at one part of our lives. You are no exception; no matter who gave you a magic cordial that can heal almost everything. Although I hate the thought of you suffering, I can't come home, not yet.

I have been thinking, we should save your cordial for mortal wounds. Maybe that way it won't run out. If you treat only the dying then you will save it. If you treat everyone then it will run out very fast.

Has your souvenir arrived yet? Those pipes should have a light, lilting sound. Maybe you can learn a song to play for me when I get home.

Before I forget, could you please ask Su to put together a huge feast for the anniversary of Beruna? We should have it outside again, just like last year. You would love that wouldn't you? You could dance with the Dryads and listen to Father Christmas tell stories. You remember last year, when they crowned you with a wreath of sunflowers and Su with a crown of roses? You two giggled so much I thought you would burst.

At the last Anniversary, I remember trying to dance with a Naiad. I got soaked. I was so glad that someone thought to bring towels. We should hold this one down by the beach, though, that way the Mer-people can join in more easily.

I'll leave you two to the planning. Those were just my thoughts.

The battles are going in our favor so far and if all continues well, I might be home in time for the celebration.

It's been a few days since I wrote about the celebration, and I feel that I should let you know: in the last battle, while I was fighting one of the Mage-giants, I was caught from behind with a club to the back. It knocked me a little ways and is taking longer than it should to heal. I may be back sooner than I thought.

It has been two weeks since I wrote that last bit and I'm still not allowed out of my bed. The wound has become infected repeatedly, I almost always have a fever. Unless something miraculous happens, I fear that I will be making the journey Home soon.

Pray for me, my dear sister.

Love always,

Peter


	5. MM5

Lucy,

It's been a while, hasn't it? Since I last wrote several things have happened. My back has finally healed and I thank Aslan for it. We have been engaged in another battle, this time a little farther north. I think we are finally pushing them back.

It's been an interesting week here, one of the Ettin giants deserted her side and come over to ours. Her name is Seroni and she has proven her loyalty time and again. I would trust her with my life.

She was among the few who knew of the battle plans of the Ettins. I am extremely happy to have her on our side. She knows their plans and tactics. We are very lucky indeed.

She is also a great storyteller. Every night now we gather around the campfire and she tells us a story. She spins such yarns as can make your blood stir or boil. She tells us stories of Love and hate, war, peace, adventure, triumph and failure. She tells stories of Ettin life and the difficulties of living in these mountains.

I think some of the magic of a story is lost when you put it down on paper. There's something about the firelight and having all your friends around you, the storyteller in front, weaving words into pictures that swim in your mind, as vivid as memories. There is no way to describe a good storyteller except: magical.

I really do hope that someday you will get to hear her tell a story, then you will know what I'm talking about. It's thrilling, exciting, breathtaking, awe-inspiring to sit there in front of the fire and watch as words make grown men, hardened warriors, cry. It's miraculous.

Anyway, in your last letter you asked me for a story, and although I suspect that you were just trying to cheer me up by playing on my love of storytelling, I will write you a story. I'm no Seroni but here goes nothing:

Once upon a time there was a little beaver. Now, his family didn't have much money so he grew up in a little cave, played with his littermates, and generally made mischief wherever he could because he was bored. His favorite game was "Knights and dragons". In this game he would be the knight in shining armor, off on a quest to destroy the foul dragon called "Dawn Treader". He loved this game and each time he played, it would turn out a little differently.

One night, the little badger was the only one in the cave that couldn't sleep. So, he crept out into the forest to find adventure.

He wandered for what seemed like hours, but he couldn't tell for the thick layer of trees over his head. He stumbled on for a long time and even though it was a cool night, his mouth was dry. Finally, up ahead, he saw a shining pool of water.

He bent his head to take a drink but a large water spirit rose up out of the water and spoke to him, "Little badger, why do you drink from my pool?"

"Because I'm thirsty and don't see any other water anywhere. May I please drink?"

"Yes, little badger, drink, and your deepest wish will be fulfilled. You have traveled far tonight, little badger, through perils you do not know, sleep well and have sweet dreams. " The little badger drank deeply of the sweet water and fell into a deep, sweet sleep.

When he woke, he was in a large glade. There were trees and everything seemed bigger and more beautiful. The mountains were more purple, the trees bigger and more green then ever before, and standing before him, in all his terrible glory, Aslan Himself.

The badgers legs began to wobble and he felt a little dizzy at seeing this King of such great power. He was nervous, yet at the same time, just looking at Aslan's golden face gave him a peace that he didn't know he could have.

The He spoke with a voice that was fierce as lightning, yet soft as velvet, "Good badger, welcome to My Country."

I hope you liked it, I heard that told at the campfire a few nights ago and it kinda stayed with me.

That's one thing I like about this place more than Spare Oom, it's stories. We didn't have storytellers back in Spare Oom. Well, Dad would sometimes tell us stories. You especially loved to hear them. I believe your favorite was Cinderella. I might tell that one to you later.

Dad would also sing to you to help you sleep. After you went to bed he would go tuck you in, tell you a story and sing you a lullaby. Your favorite lullaby had a haunting melody and I would fall asleep to it almost as often as you would. It was a song from the Deep South of a place in Spare Oom. It went like this:

Hush-a-bye don't you cry

Go to sleep little baby

And when you wake

You shall have cake

And all the pretty little horses.

Black and Bay

Dapple and Grey

All the pretty little horses.

Mammy Loves

And Pappy loves

And Mammy loves her little baby

Go to sleep, go to sleep

Go to sleep little baby

Black and Bay

Dapple and Grey

All the pretty little horses

Way down yonder

In the meadow

Poor little baby crying, "Mamma"

Birds and Butterflies flutter 'round her eyes

Poor little baby crying, "Mamma"

Black and Bay

Dapple and Grey

All the pretty little horses.

Dad used to sing that to you and you'd be asleep before he even finished. I hope you remember the song but if you don't I'll sing it for you when I get back.

It's getting dark here, the story and the fire is about to start, I will write again soon, I promise.

Your loving brother,

Peter


	6. MM6

Lucy,

I have great news! I will be back in a fortnight. We are packing things away as I write.

I'll send you word as soon as we are to leave.

Your brother,

Peter


	7. MM7

Lucy,

I'm all packed up, except for my writing desk, obviously, and am heading home. It shouldn't take us but a couple of days: the troops are well rested and everybody is anxious to get home.

The plan is to be home the morning before the coronation, that way everyone can have time to be settled in for the festivities.

I will see you very soon my sister, until then, thank Aslan that I am returning alive. I know I do.

Aslan keep you between his paws,

Peter


	8. Thanks to You

A/N: _I just wanted to thank you so much for all the support that you have given this story! _

_Letters to Lucy just won the Puddleglum award on "The Lions Call" website (under the title, "Magnificent Missives") and I'm so honored that so many people loved it enough to vote. Thank you so much. _

_I've been extremely blessed to have such wonderful people brought into my life by fanfiction. Namely: You. _

_I feel honored to call you my friend. _

_~VFK~_


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